


Of Course He's A Florist

by acornsandarrows



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Fluff, M/M, The brenda/teresa is implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornsandarrows/pseuds/acornsandarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is moving into a new building, a golden boy helps him install the final box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Course He's A Florist

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited!! whwohOW

“Need some help with that?”

Thomas tried to peer around the large box he was struggling to maintain his grip on.

“Uhh help would be nice, thanks.”

“Not a problem,” the invisible person said, he felt someone grip the other side of the box and suddenly a considerable amount of weight left his arms. He backed his way into the new apartment, and he could feel the box moving oddly, like the person on the other end had a strange way of walking. He was thankful for the lack of clutter due to the boxes already installed.

“Just over here?” they placed the box on the counter top and Thomas ducked out from behind it, stretching.

“Thanks again,” he rolled his shoulder and stuck out a hand.

“You’re bloody welcome,” the other replied, shaking the proffered hand firmly and offering him a smile. Then he turned, leaving Thomas in his golden wake, heart thumping a tad faster than before.

~

“Hello again.”

Thomas spun on his heel and almost fell over.

“Hey.”

“All settled in?” the guy asked, nodding at the closed door.

“Yeah. I was just about to head out, check out the neighbourhood.”

“Well, have fun.”

“Would you like too.. uh. Would you mind giving me the grand tour?” Thomas tried not to cough, his heartbeat in his throat. The ‘golden boy’ smiled.

“I’d bloody love too, but unfortunately enough I have to go into work.”

“Oh! Yeah of course.” The boy walked past Thomas and out the door, giving a wave as he headed down the street. “Maybe some other time then?” Thomas muttered to himself, shaking his head and walking out in the opposite direction.

~

Thomas was three weeks into living _this side_ of the river and he was already feeling surprisingly settled. Never being one particularly averse to change, he quickly adjusted his rout to work, something Minho appreciated. What Minho didn’t appreciate, however, was the unexpected distraction that presented itself to Thomas in this new environment.

“Ok, slinthead,” he snapped his fingers under Thomas’ nose “I don’t care if shucking… I don’t know. Who’s hot and happening right now?”

“What are you talking about?” Thomas asked, nonplussed.

"'Hot and happening'?" called Teresa. Minho flipped her off then turned back to Thomas.  

“I don’t care who it is you’re crushing on right now, I’m sure they’re amazing and gorgeous and I hope it works out or whatever, but fall tournament is coming around and I need you to be at the top of your game. So get to work you piece of klunk. 10 laps.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, and began jogging around the track.

“Good that. Only I’m not crushing on anyone.”

“Right.” Gally called, lapping him. “And Teresa hasn’t been making moon eyes at Brenda for the past decade.”

“Hey I’m not one to dispute the facts,” Thomas replied, stopping to help Gally back to his feet after having Teresa trip him over. “I just don’t like anyone right now.”

He tried very hard not to think of Golden Boy during his next practise.  

~

“You guys want to come over and check out my new apartment?” Thomas offered, absently plucking at the t-shirt stuck to his abdomen. Minho shrugged.

“Sure, I’ll come.”

Thomas eyed him suspiciously.

“What?” he raised an eyebrow, palms up, “you offered.”

“Fine. Any other takers?”

In the end it was Thomas, Minho and Gally who made their way from the gym back to his apartment. The inside was blessedly air conditioned, although Minho had to remind Thomas not to leave his damp top on in the cool lobby. Grumbling, he raised his eyes to the ceiling and pulled his top up.

“Bad time?”

He started, catching the shirt on his ear and struggled for an extra 10 seconds before managing to pull it off entirely. He felt a flush prickling up his neck and into his cheeks as he stared at golden boy, who was biting his lip, looking as though trying not to smile.

“Uh…”

“Thomas, dude,” Minho and Gally descended like vultures. “Who is this?”

“Um.” It suddenly occurred to Thomas that he’d never asked golden boy his name.

“Newt,” the other supplied, shaking hands with both.

“Minho.”

“Gally.”

“Alright!” Thomas interrupted, “now that we’re all shucking introduced, Minho, Gally, my apartment awaits—“

“One second, slinthead.” Minho reached out and passed golden boy (Newt, apparently) a flyer for the tournament. “You should come,” he said. “It’ll be a good race.”

Newt peered down at the flyer.

“Alright,” he pocketed it, “well, I’ll see you around.”

Minho turned to Thomas, who was spluttering next to the door.

“Nice catch, man.” He grinned. Thomas pushed his way into his apartment and sighed, watching the other two traipse in.

“Where did that flyer even come from?” he asked, sounding half concerned, “do you just carry them around with you or what?”

Minho shrugged.

“Never know when you might need some good publicity.”

~

“Hey Newt.”

“Morning Tommy.”

Thomas felt like slamming a fist into the wall _it’s only ten thirty and he’s already tripping me up?_ But all he said was,

“Thought anymore about that race?"

To his surprise, Newt pulled the crinkled paper out of his pocket and flipped it over.

“Yeah,” he said, “Might have to move some shifts around, but that’s alright. God knows I work too bloody much anyway.”

“Where do you work?” Thomas asked, curiosity burning in his gut. Newt shrugged.

“Few places.”

“Who knows, I might run into you serving me coffee one of these days.”

“You wish, Tommy,” Newt grinned, pushing past him. He smelled of flowers.                 

~

The day of the run dawned crisp and sharply cold, a nod towards the coming winter. Thomas stretched up with the rest of the runners, his breath puffing out in misty clouds. The track crackled satisfyingly underfoot.  

They lined up, interspersed with competitors. Thomas took a deep breath, looked sideways and. Saw him. He was standing next to the barrier, arms crossed, smiling at him. He actually came, Thomas thought, feeling oddly breathless. The gun went with a bang, and Thomas pushed forward.

The race was, as they all are, a blur. It was only a short one, 3 laps around a 1k track, but intense. The winner, a girl named Harriet. Thomas came second, but as he stood on the podium and watched Newt clapping him, he felt like the ultimate champion.

~

Thomas took a deep breath. He was loitering on the steps outside the flower shop, fiddling with the door knob. He exhaled, closed his eyes, and pushed the door open.

The interior was odd, there was a strange almost winding slope down to the main room of the shop. It was bordering on humid, and the air smelled sweet, and a little cloying. Dying flowers, Thomas assumed. Unsure of what he was looking for, he perused the selection of plants, looking around for the perfect thing. Finally, feeling slightly flustered, he chose a small bunch of tulips, and walked over to the front desk, pressing the small bell that signalled he needed assistance of some kind.

“Hello, how can I— “

Newt froze. Thomas froze. They stared at each other over the counter, neither saying a word. Newt was the first to break the silence.

“How can I, uh, help?” he smiled, but something looked a tad off. Thomas recovered himself, mentally groaning. Of course the guy he wanted to give flowers to was a shucking florist.

“Just these please,” he sighed, passing the bouquet to Newt.

“You sure look bloody cheerful,” Newt commented, wrapping the flower stems in paper with practiced movements. His expression was still a little odd. Thomas made no comment. He figured Newt would know soon enough anyway.

“There.” Newt finished, the curled ribbon springing back from his hand.

“How much?”

Thomas fiddled with the ribbons as the transaction was completed, and Newt handed him the change.

“That all?” he asked, his voice hinting at tenseness.

“One more thing,” Thomas mumbled. May as well do this now, he reasoned. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he thrust the flowers back at Newt with a hasty ‘these are for you,’ turned, and walked out the door.

~

That evening Thomas heard someone knocking on his door. He opened it, and almost immediately felt someone pressing their mouth to his. Off balanced, he wrapped his arms around the closest thing to him; Newt.

They stayed like that for quite some time.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK you for reading  
> also this is only my second piece of work for tmr so if you have any characterization tips or anything please please hit me up


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